Lightweight
by veramo
Summary: Banished seems to be the best word to describe the Valkyrie's plight. Book One.
1. One

_"Don't you dare look out your window, darling every things on fire."  
_ _Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars_

* * *

 **Tønsberg, Norway**  
 **March 1942**

The whole village was shaking. Mothers and children scurried into their homes in a last-ditch attempt to save themselves from the inevitable. Tears streamed down the hard-worn faces of men because they failed to keep their families safe from the iron fist abroad. It was particularly frightening once some villagers glimpsed at the symbols on the tanks and cars. A red skull with six limbs told all those within the village that they had finally come for their best kept secret. A brave youth ran with all haste to the main clock tower in a vain attempt to warn the two protectors within. He knew that this incursion was different, simply based on the red symbols marring the metal moving towards the antique building.

" _They've come for it!_ " he exclaimed bursting through the old oak doors and locking them behind him, as if that simple move will keep the intruders out. The tower itself was ancient and riddled with old Norse mythology, but it held one of the greatest secrets on Earth.

" _They have before,_ " the Keeper nonchalantly said as he descended the stairs from the upper keep. He himself wasn't worried, having not seen the symbols on the oncoming incursion. He thought that the decoys would be enough to stop them, and if that failed the Guardian would do what they was meant to do.

The youth, struggling for breath and clearly flustered didn't hold the same bravery that the Keeper did. " _Not like this,_ " he ground out towards the older man.

" _Let them come,_ " he spat out, " _They'll never find it._ " He had a brave face, but it flickered away once the building began to shake and the doors began to bend. Suddenly the stone above and around the door gave way, falling down in a tidal wave of rocks. The youth was smothered under the weight instantly, but the Keeper was able to move out of the way of the onslaught. The Keeper saw a large metal contraption retract away from where the doorway once stood and a handful of men dressed in military garb rushed into the tower. One shoved him to the ground and held a gun to his head while four others quickly made their way to the tomb in the center of the tower. He could tell from the way that they spoke that they were German soldiers under the Nazi Reich.

The Keeper was scared but also relieved. These men began to push at the stone of the tomb while their superior yelled at them to hurry. The Keeper wanted the men to open the tomb, take the decoy, and leave. Many others had done the same and never returned, and if they did the Guardian took them out instantly. None of the men at the moment however were wearing a military insignia, which the Keeper thought was strange. Usually battalions of men would come and parade their alliance like a peacock- claiming the secret for one leader or another and he could guess that the Nazi were no different. These men were plainly dressed in military standard uniforms, but their accents gave them away. The superior kept yelling at them until a figure stood in the threshold and calmly made his way down towards the tomb. The Keeper didn't have to guess hard to know that this man was the platoons superior officer.

"It has taken me a long time to find this place," the figure said walking towards the Keeper. "You should be commended." Once the figure stepped into the light, the Keeper's heart plummeted. On the man's breast and hat sat a symbol that the old Keeper never hoped to see. He had heard rumors of a man who was so deeply invested in mythology that he practically considered himself to be a god. The Keeper knew that this was the very same man, and he also knew that if the decoy and Guardian were unable to stop him then the world had cause to fear. Johann Schmidt had come for the secret, and letting him get it would mean virtual annihilation.

"Help him up," Schmidt snapped at the guards behind the Keeper who roughly hauled him to his feet as Schmidt came to stand before him. "I think that you are a man of great vision, and in this way we are much alike," he said in a mocking tone.

"I am nothing like you," the Keeper spat out.

"Of course, but what other's see as superstition you and I know to be a science," Schmidt cooed to the older man. "You and I both also know about a deep secret that dwells here, yes?"

"What you seek is just a legend." The Keeper's voice was losing its strength and he began to waver under the intense, red-rimmed eyes of the Nazi Scientist.

"Then why make such efforts to conceal it?" Schmidt snapped, removing his hat and moving to stand in front of the tomb. With an inhuman amount of strength he pushed off the ancient stone lid, something three of his inferiors couldn't do minutes before. Gazing up at him through an empty skull was a knight clutching a small blue cube and a old bronze sword. His skeleton was covered in dust coated gold, but Schmidt clearly had his eyes on something else.

"The Tesseract was the jewel of Odin's treasure room," he said reaching in an grasping the small cube from the skeletal fingers. He suddenly dropped it and allowed it to shatter into a hundred small fragments at his feet. "It is not something one buries. But I think it is close, yes?" he asked the Keeper as he slowly moved to stand before him once more. The Keeper was reminded of a snake. They slither and at the last moment move to strike so fast that if you blink you'll miss it. Schmidt reminded him of a snake recoiling and getting ready to pounce.

"I cannot help you." The Keeper was unable to hide his fear anymore. Usually the decoy worked and the intruders would be on their way claiming victory and singing songs of future victories that would never come. He'd seen this with the First Great War, but it seemed that the fates were not on his side during the Second Great War.

"No, but maybe you can help your village?" The Keeper's heart plummeted again. His thoughts were racing as he was thinking about the fate of his beloved village where he was born and planned to die. From the baker that bakes his bread to the cobbler next door who fixed the sole of his shoe just last week, the Keeper was beginning to crack under fright. "I have no need for them to die." With those final words, the Keeper's resolve shattered into a hundred fragments, just like the decoy. He could only hope that at this point the Guardian would be enough to stop them.

As if answering the Keeper's silent prayer, a dark body dropped silently from the rafters onto the ground behind the Nazi soldiers. With much practice and well-placed hits, the shadowed figure began to take out the smaller soldiers one by one before any of them could fire a bullet. The bodies dropped to the ground in heaps as the figure continued to lithely move, covered from head to toe in black with a large cloak.

A soldier took aim at the figure and was about to pull the trigger before Schmidt cried out telling his men to hold their fire. Schmidt quickly pulled a small gun from his belt and fired two rounds at the figure. One found it's mark and the red dart stood out against the black shoulder. The Guardian stopped for a minute and let their guard down, but recovered quickly and landed a swift punch to the current soldier's face. They turned to face Schmidt and stared him down from behind the hood of the cloak— their face completely hidden.

"Ah the Guardian," Schmidt exclaimed with more happiness than necessary. With his soldiers littering the ground around him, he was more than excited to see the strong contender. With two more trigger-pulls, Schmidt fired two red darts into the figure's stomach. They wavered for a moment before falling to their knees with a hard thud. The Keeper rushed to their side and kept the Guardian from falling completely to the ground.

Schmidt strode towards the two and grabbed the collar of the Guardian's cloak and pulled them from the floor and the Keeper's arms, causing the hood to fall back. Instead of the imposing face of a bird like he was expecting, he gazed into the green-blue eyes of a young woman. Her brown hair was in a long braid down her back and her delicate facial features were marred with smudges of dirt and blood. Disappointment and anger took over the happiness on Schmidt's face and with a swift punch to her jaw, he sent her to the floor and shot two more darts into her side for good measure. The Keeper was horrified and when he saw the Guardian crumple to the ground he knew all was lost.

"I will ask you again, good Keeper," Schmidt said as he hovered over the crumpled young woman on the ground. "Where is the Tesseract?" The Keeper could no longer find the words to speak. His eyes briefly flashed over to a wooden carving on a wall and Schmidt didn't miss his small movement. Following his gaze, Schmidt couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. "Yggdrasil, the tree of the world." He came to stand in front of the carving and analyzed it from top to bottom, resting his gaze upon the snake that coiled around the base of the tree. He pressed the eye of the snake and released a hatch that sprung out a dark wooden drawer. The delight on his face was hard to miss as he pulled out the box and opened the lid, emitting a light blue glow.

"You have never seen this have you?" he asked the Keeper that was still bent over the young woman.

"It is not for the eyes of ordinary men," he choked out in reply. His fire was gone and was replaced with true resignation.

"Exactly," Schmidt snapped closing the box. Turning to a soldier by the threshold Schmidt pointed to the tanks outside. "Give the order to open fire. Bring the girl."

As Schmidt made his way towards the exit, the Keeper has a last-minute surge of bravery at the idea of his village being decimated. "Fool!" he exclaimed. "You cannot control the power you hold! The reign of Asgard will fall upon you! You will burn!"

"I already have," Schmidt replied nonchalantly as he fired a bullet into the head of the Keeper. Watching his men come into the tower and lift the woman up, he couldn't help but smile at his success.

* * *

 _Italics_ is another language  
I don't own anything except my rendition of Sian


	2. Two

"You will find you acting on your best behaviour. Turn your back on mother nature." - _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ by Lorde

-x-

AN: I don't own Marvel, only my OC.

* * *

HYDRA Factory

Austria

I awoke to a splitting headache and pain in my shoulders, ribs, and stomach. I was also vaguely aware of the plushness of the mattress below me which first registered in my mind as strange. My eyelids felt like they weighed two tonnes and I had a hard enough time opening them. My entire body felt sluggish and the deeper part of my mind reminded me that I was shot multiple times with tranquillizers.

When my eyes finally decided to open, the first thing I saw was a grey concrete roof. Nothing special about it save for a small crack in the corner above my head. Turning slightly I saw that the grey roof transitioned into grey walls and into a grey floor. I was clearly in a cell, and what else would I have expected from the Nazis? Slowly sitting up, I was able to take in my surroundings completely and be thankful that I was still wearing my black armoured trousers and long-sleeved black shirt. My boots and cloak were gone and I was left in thick black stockings to cover my feet. I noticed then that I was sitting on a small yet fluffy bed in a small concrete cell with no windows and a metal door. What was off about the room was the fact that the cell wasn't damp, dark, nor dirty. It was lit up by a glowing light hanging from the ceiling and it looked relatively clean. The only items in it were the bed, a small dresser, a toilet and sink combination, and a table big enough for one person with a matching chair. The furniture was made of dark, expensive-looking wood and seemed to be pricey.

Curious. I wondered what the gimmick was here, and my confusion got even worse when a small hatch was opened at the bottom of the door and a tray of food was slid through. The hatch closed as soon as it opened, offering me a small inkling of an escape plan. I was quickly distracted by the smell of the new food and the grumbling it forced out of my stomach. I couldn't hold in the noise, and I timidly rose from the bed and made my way towards the tray. It looked harmless enough and smelled delightful. The tray of eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, and potatoes called to me, but I simply left it on the floor. The Nazi's that supplied the food was smart enough to not give me anything that I could even use as a weapon such as a fork or a knife. They thought that they were clever to give me a strange fork-spoon combination, but I was smarter. The food could have been laced with anything and I wasn't willing to risk my health or sanity so I returned to my assigned bed. I laid down on the mattress and closed my eyes in an effort to try to ignore my hunger and want for water.

Two days, or so I thought, passed like this. I would get three meals a day— breakfast, lunch, and dinner— through the hole in the door. A hook would reach in and grab ahold of the old tray and a hand would slide in a new one. The food was tempting with each meal smelling and looking more wonderful than the last. They were borderline gourmet and it hurt just to look at them. This whole process lasted less than five seconds and each time I made an attempt to grasp the hand pushing the tray through. But with my weakened body and lack of sustenance, I was slow and never succeeded. I usually spent my time simply laying on the bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about how I got myself into this predicament.

On the third day, instead of the hatch opening, the entire door opened. The Nazi leader strolled in like the proverbial peacock he was. He put a breakfast food tray on the table and pulled out the chair. Sitting down, he had a smug and eased look on his face that contradicted the harsh colours and lines of his dark suit. His black eyes bore into my face, but I continued to stare at the ceiling, ignoring his entire presence as he gazed intently at me with a smile that I wanted to punch off.

After about five minutes of silence, he finally opened his mouth to speak. "I see that you have been letting your meals go to waste." He tsked and shook his head, the smile never wavering. "Such a shame. You don't know how jealous my men are." He actually began to slightly chuckle at this.

"You know," he continued, "When I saw you at the tomb, I couldn't help but think 'This is what I have been waiting for. A real-life Valkyrie!'" He was smiling even wider at me and I began to feel uncomfortable under his stare. It was like he could make me lose my mind just by looking at me. On top of that, his strong accent was grating to my ears, and if my resolve to remain stoic was any weaker I would have grimaced.

"Alas," the droll kept on, "I was slightly disappointed to see that it was just you. Your face is a lot nicer to look at instead of the bird-form you supposedly take, but I was hoping for a good scare." He accented his point with a grand wave of his hands as if he was telling a story of huge proportions. "Until we got you into the caravan and we saw your shoulders as we removed the darts." My stomach fell and I suddenly began to break into a nervous sweat, but I didn't let my stoic facade break. The Nazi's had seen my shoulders and likely my entire back, and the thought of them touching my bare body made my stomach lurch in disgust and horror.

"That pattern. It's so symmetric and beautiful. I almost wanted to cry." He began to laugh as if he told himself a good joke. I turned my head to finally look at him, and I couldn't help but look behind his ears towards the scars.

"Do they frighten you?" he asked, seemingly knowing where my gaze was pointed. I didn't reply, instead, I turned back to stare at the empty ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I'd thought not. You've probably seen things far more horrifying than me."

When I didn't respond once more, I heard him move and the tray tinkle as its contents jolted. The sounds of a utensil scraping against the plastic and of the Nazi chewing on the meal made my stomach erupt into sharp pains. I clenched my jaw in defiance and stayed still on the bed despite my stomach's insistence that I get up and grab the food from him. My traitorous belly roared low and contrasted against the harsh scrapings of the fork. My fists tightened and my nails dug into my palm so hard that they drew small beads of blood from the crescent moon indents.

The Keeper had done a decent job of relaying all the local and international news to me when they came from callers and newspapers in the small village, and lately, I had heard the whispers of a mad-man who climbed the ranks of the encroaching Nazi Party. The Keeper explained to me that this man was a threat, and the day he comes for the Tesseract would be the day that the world began its descent into Hel. I had no doubt in my mind that this was the man that the Keeper would often warn me about, but the man before me looked like any other. No glaring abnormality made him seem extraordinary— he was just another man seeking the power of the gods, and I knew that he would burn in a fiery inferno.

I was dead determined on remaining silent. I wasn't going to give this radical the satisfaction of knowing that I was scared of him nor would I allow myself to break under his intense glare. I was a more advanced being and I wouldn't resort to the preying of an inferior man. The scraping of the fork-spoon continued and I suddenly felt the extreme urge to take the small plastic utensil and shove it in his undead-looking eyes.

"I do have a few more questions for you, my little bird," he said in-between mouthfuls. "The more you answer, the better these conditions will be for you. Not that they have been horrible at all considering the circumstances."

'Just keep staring at the ceiling,' I kept telling myself.

"Now how exactly does a magnificent creature such as yourself fall so far and land here on Midgard? There must be some grand explanation," he continued on between mouthfuls of food.

I didn't open my mouth. Silence became me.

"How old are you? It must have been a sight, seeing you fall so far, but there is no chance that I would have missed that. It must not have been in this millennia surely."

Be quiet.

"What is your name? Is it something regal, a name worthy of only the greatest warriors?"

He kept chewing and I was deadly silent. I stared at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting colour in the cosmos.

"I see you are not willing to open up to my curiosities," he said in that exasperatingly thick accent. His voice was grating and I could tell by his tone that his patience was wearing thin. "Since you are not willing to indulge me on any other topic, I do have one last question for you my little bird," He paused as if holding out for a dramatic feeling. This man was certainly a pinnacle point of the Nazi party with all their showmanship and frivolity.

"Where are your wings?" Those four words instantly struck a melancholy chord in my heart and my mind. My body began to swirl and the fatigue I have felt the last three days was intensified ten-fold. "Clearly you do not have them anymore, otherwise you would have escaped from this room and already killed me."

Hot tears misted over my eyes. I tried to take a sharp breath in to attempt to control the tears, but I could only take in a ragged gasp as my throat constricted. My ability to breathe and control my emotions seemed to walk out the door. I had only cried one other time in my long life, and it was the last time the topic of my beautiful wings was brought up. That discussion was the day I lost them and the worst day I have ever lived through. A small sob escaped my throat and the emotions flowed through me like a river, but I didn't turn my head to look at him. I stared at the ceiling with watery eyes in a desperate plea for someone or something to pull me away.

"Ah, so that's all it took to get a reaction from you little bird," I could practically hear the smug smile on his face. "If I had known that, I would have saved you the infamous German hospitality."

I heard the chair scrape and his footfalls as he got up from the table. The Nazi came to my bed and had the nerve to perch on the bottom corner as if he was an old friend.

"I can offer you an escape little bird," he said with a fake sense of sincerity behind his voice. "I can offer you the opportunity to get out of this cell and make the human-race bend to your will. Join HYDRA, my beautiful Valkyrie, and watch this world come to its knees."

It was only at this that I turned my head to look at him once more. Sitting at the foot of my bed, the Nazi was smiling a cruel smile with a glimmer of malice behind his dead eyes. There was nothing on his face that screamed 'sincere.' I just had to look at him once to see that he had intentions that weren't anything less than evil. How much blood did this man have on his hands? Was he really expecting me to join in on him and his party's rampage across Europe?

"I am not your Valkyrie," I spat out at him, my voice hoarse from lack of use and water. "I will never join you."

With that, his smile was wiped off his face and a look of disappointment took over. "Such a shame," he said as he stood up and began to walk towards the door. "I had high hopes for you."

With his back to me, I spat out towards him once more. "I know the power you are playing with, and I warn you now that you will never be able to harness it. You are no god, and you never will be." I glared at his back as he continued to walk to the door.

With one last glance over his shoulder, the Nazi threw a wicked smile back at me.

"We shall see, my winged angel."


	3. Three

"So if you want to push, I'm a shove. If you want to spar we can do it no gloves." _Don't Get In My Way_ by Zach Hemsey

* * *

The freezing cold water woke me up in an instant.

The cloth bag over my head just made my gasps for air more intense.

The hands roughly pulling my body up left an instant sting.

"Get up! Get up!" they were screaming in German, but my head was too muddled from exhaustion and fatigue that my body couldn't fully comply nor defend myself. Valkyrie strength be damned, I couldn't even properly hold myself up after three days of no food or water. They grabbed and kicked at me until I stood on my own two feet, shaking from the cold water that drenched my face and hair. They shoved me forward and seemingly out the door.

They yelled and moved me down a seemingly endless hallway. Despite everything, I could feel the damp chill coming from the walls. This only seemed to further my misery as my hair dripped cold water down my simple shirt and armoured leggings. My bare feet splashed against random puddles and a musty smell permeated the fabric over my face. The room they kept me in was always a warm temperature that greatly contrasted the bitter cold I was currently feeling.

They kept yelling at me to move forward in rough German. Whenever I would stumble I would feel the sharp sting of a club against my back and shoulders. Hands would grab my upper arms and push me towards an unknown end, ripping the shoulders and arms of my shirt in the process.

The hallway seemed endless until I heard the distinct sound of a metal door opening. I was shoved forward and I harshly fell onto my hands and knees, further adding to my endless list of bruises. The men continued to yell as they grabbed me and lifted me onto a shockingly cold metal bed. In quick and rapid movements they secured me with what felt like leather straps that constricted my entire body. The straps held me down across my chest, stomach, thighs and at my wrist and ankles. Everything was cold and I was beginning to lose feeling in my toes and the tips of my ears.

The bag was never removed from my head because my tormentors deemed it fit to pour more freezing cold water over my head. The water mixed with the cloth bag made me feel like I was drowning in a frozen lake. It reminded me of the time a young noble girl was walking by a stream next to the keep in Asgard. She slipped and went head first into the cold water and she remained under until my sister Hara dove in to save her. This must be what the young girl felt. Gasping for air and only receiving a mouthful of water in return— breathing in that water making the cold burn my lungs and chest. Over and over they poured buckets on my face. My lungs began to ache as they refused to give me any more than a moments respite. I felt like I could die like this: a mortal woman gasping for air with no hope of rescue. Where was my winged saviour this time? I kept asking myself this, only for the darker voice in my mind to remind me that all my saviours abandoned me long ago.

When they finally took the soaked bag off my head I started to thank fate that it was over. The praise was barely formed in my mind when the fist collided with my jaw. My head snapped sharply to the left and my body strained against the straps cutting into my skin. I spat out a bit of blood and turned to glare at my assailant. I saw that I was surrounded by four men dressed in head to toe black that covered everything including their eyes. They looked as if they came from an age that has yet to pass. Every bit of them, from their goggled eyes to their armoured chests, screamed HYDRA.

My captors then decided that I would be pushed further as they took the opportunity to assault every inch of my body that they could reach. They all punched me repeatedly anywhere they could land a fist. No part of me was spared and I could already feel the bruising and swelling begin to form.

After a few minutes of this, I'd like to think they got tired of beating something that couldn't fight back. After all, where was the fun in that? Somewhere along the line I had closed my eyes and balled my hands into a fist that was so tight that my nails began to cut through my skin. Their punches got slower and less forceful until they eventually stopped. A few breaths passed until I heard them begin to file out the room and then slam the metal door shut.

At the loud groan of metal against metal, I finally opened my eyes through heavy lids. I stared up at a dark concrete ceiling that was dripping with moisture. Taking in my surroundings I saw that I was in a dirty workshop of some sort, but I wasn't familiar with any of the machinery nor utensils. Looking down at my body I saw that the straps that I thought were simply leather were steel reinforced and about a quarter of an inch thick. I was kept down by five straps lining my body from chest to ankles. I could barely even move my wrist side to side with how tight my restraints were, and the notion of breaking through them was a far-fetched fantasy. I knew that even with my Asgardian strength my body was on the verge of shutting down from malnutrition, so getting through these straps would be impossible in my current state. I knew that nothing would help me here.

Was I so easy to resign to this fate? Would I not be willing to fight through in an attempt to salvage my situation? The strong and proud Valkyrie side of me wouldn't allow myself to give up without a fight. This side would continue to hold out and push me through any pain or trial. However, a smaller, more pessimistic side would whisper through my proverbial cracks and make me question all of my hope. Like a small demon, I'd seed despair and allow myself to give up any inkling of saving myself or being saved.

I didn't know which side of me would win in this mental spar, but I knew that both parts placed the blame on my own selfish needs. I could curse Odin and HYDRA until the sun set in the east, but I knew that this all started and lead to this predicament because of my stupid actions. I had to question the gaps in Asgardian history, and I had to forsake the life I was content with living. I would continue to curse my captors and those I left behind in Asgard because the process made me feel the smallest bit better, but there was in reality only myself to blame. Damn you Odin and damn you HYDRA. I said this like a mantra in my head until exhaustion overtook me and my world went black.

-x-

My entire body hurt when I finally opened my two-tonne eyes. Everything was blurred and I felt like I had an axe in my skull. The constant throbbing pain started at my ankles and went all the way up to my face. I knew that my pain was a lot less than it could be, and for a small winking moment I was grateful for my Asgardian resistance. Despite the fact that I healed at a more accelerated rate I was still uncomfortable with my stationary position and blooming injuries.

"At last she awakes," came the grating Germany voice that within two days I grew to loathe. My body tensed up as he walked into my damp room and came to stand over me. From my position on the metal table, his scars on his face were far more defined, and they looked more fresh and prominent up close. Curiously I followed the line up his jaw and behind his ear with a sickening feeling growing in my stomach.

"How is my little bird faring today?" He sneered down at me. "I'm sorry about the dramatics earlier, but I wanted to get my point across." He started to walk around my metal table and stared me down like a hawk— an evil, grotesque hawk.

"Did you reconsider my offer little bird?" He asked me as he came to a stop on the opposite side of me. I wanted to laugh. Not a small chuckle, but a full-blown roar. He was on a disappointing road if he believed that I would ever partake in anything having to do with HYDRA. After he decimated an innocent village, killed the Keeper, and beat me it was clear that he would have a lot to fear if I ever got out of my restraints. I stopped looking at his scarred skin and turned my gaze towards the dark, mouldy ceiling.

"Ignoring me again my Valkyrie? I would have thought you learned the first time," that was all he said before a hand snapped my head to the left. The slap resonated throughout the room and my fury spilt over like a waterfall.

"You will NEVER be a god," I snapped at him as my teeth ground and my body began to shake with anger. My hands curled into fists and I began to struggle against my restraints, the steel cutting into my skin and drawing blood in some places. I wanted nothing more than to strangle the life out of his body. I did the next best thing I could and I spat at his face, watching with satisfaction as saliva landed on his cheek. A wide smile spread across his face at my boldness.

"Ah, there is that Valkyrie fury!" he said pleased as he clapped his hands in joy and then reached up to wipe away the moisture. "Doctor Zola!"

I turned and saw the door opened and a small, mouse-like man entered. He looked apprehensive at first but as he got closer to me the resistance melted into awe. When he came and paused on the side of my bed I saw his gaze rake over my skin that was exposed through a rip in my shirt.

"Amazing isn't she, Doctor? I told you the pattern was beautifully etched in her skin." the Nazi crooned to the small doctor as he continued to gaze at my exposed shoulder. His short fingers came up to lightly grasp the ripped black fabric and he began to push it back. I struggled against my restraints and he quickly jumped back as if I burned him. I glared daggers at his pale face.

"I thought you s-said she wouldn't be able to g-get out of these straps?" Zola stuttered, gazing at the Nazi with a flicker of fear.

"And she won't. These straps can withhold a lot more than her." The Nazi brushed his fingers over the straps holding me down as if to emphasize his statement. I turned to look at the Nazi and struggled even more as his fingertips danced over the strap on my stomach. They were both teasing me, and pushing their boundaries by virtually touching me. "Unfortunately she has denied my offer once more."

Zola came closer once more and continued to look at me as if studying and memorizing everything he could. "Would you like me to begin with the testing on her?" My head snapped towards him at the word 'testing.'

"No, in the light of her rejection lets see how far we can push her before we start looking for results." I snapped to look at the Nazi so fast I could have gotten whiplash. Their conversation made me curious but also fearful.

"What would you prefer I do?" Zola asked as he pulled a pair of small scissors out of his pocket and began to cut the fabric above my elbow.

"Do what you please, Doctor. Just make sure she isn't too broken when we begin the real testing." And with that, the Nazi turned on his heel and strode out of the dark room in a flurry of leather and sharp steps.

Zola's small fingers cut my sleeve above my elbow and pushed the loose fabric down my arm to rest at the restraints holding my wrists. I watched his every move, which were slow and careful. I would occasionally twitch or shuffle and his beady eyes would shift to stare at me with veiled fear. He walked across the room and shuffled with a metal tray and placed random objects on it. I saw very little due to his small body blocking my view but I wasn't familiar with anything I did see. When he came back to stand next to my metal gurney I saw that he had two large syringes and a damp rag on top of a dusty metal tray which he placed on a small table above my head that I didn't notice. With steady hands he took the rag and began to wipe down the skin on my inner elbow, ridding the area of the sweat and small blood droplets. He put the rag down and took one of the two syringes which held a white, cloudy liquid.

Taking the syringe he quickly plunged it into my elbow and injected me with the liquid. In a few rapid movements, he stuck the second needle in my skin and forced the second dose into my body. After wiping the small dot of blood from the injection site, Zola took the tray in his hands and scurried out of the room. "Enjoy your night," he quickly threw back to me before closing the metal door and locking it.

Within a minute of him leaving I began to feel a slow burn move its way from my my elbow and bloom in my arm. The burn began to intensify into a fire as it spread to my upper arm and fingers. Within a few more seconds it spread to my upper chest and it felt like I was literally on fire. I thought my body was set ablaze and that my skin would blister from the burning. The pain was excruciating as the burn spread across my entire body and engulfed me from head to toe. A scream escaped my throat as everything felt like fire. Red-hot pain ballooned everywhere, my temperature rose, and my heart started beating rapidly. The inferno was too much as more screams were ripped from my mouth. There was no respite, and I screamed from the inferno in my body for what felt like hours before the pain finally made me see black.


	4. Four

_"Can you kill a man with your hands?"_

 _Medieval Warfare by Grimes_

* * *

 **May 1942**

I didn't want to open my eyes because it seemed like every time I woke up within the last few months I was subjected to some kind of torture. The idea of looking at the dark ceiling and seeing the straps over my chest was something that I wasn't looking forward to. However when my stomach seemed to remember the fact that I hadn't eaten in about six days it groaned loudly and my eyes fluttered open from the pain.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a lot brighter than before. To the left of me stood a lamp that was emitting a bright yellow glow all throughout the once dark room. Right next to it was a chair and a pole with a bag of clear liquid in it. The bag had a long clear tube that flowed down and ended in my arm with a needle. The clear liquid was dripping down the tube and I think it was flowing directly into my arm, but even during my time in Asgard I had never seen anything do what this contraption was doing. I was so distracted by the strange attachment to my arm that I barely noticed the faint footsteps coming towards me.

"Amazing isn't it? It was originally meant for only the use of saline, but we have perfected it," said Zola as he came to stand beside me and check on the level of liquid in the bag. "Fortunately for us, you have been the perfect subject to test my new, nutrition-rich fluids. I've been developing this special for our HYDRA soldiers who have been caught in rather unfortunate circumstances." He tapped the bag gently before reaching down and removing the needle from the crook of my elbow.

The small scientist flittered around the room once more and gathered more items that clinked against a metal tray. He put what looked like a phonograph on the tray and pressed a button that made the small machine whirl. Placing the tray down on the table beside the gurney, he settled comfortably in the chair and began to wipe down my upper arm. In less than a second he was injecting me with a large dose of a dark green liquid. I winced at the bite of the needle and the cold glass vial that he pressed against my skin as he collected the few drops of blood from the injection site. With a deep breath I went stiff as I felt the intruding liquid flow through my body. I felt everything, and when I felt it creep up my neck I closed my eyes and began to breathe deeply as an uncomfortable pressure grew behind my eyes.

"Subject Valkyrie, prepped and injected with Substance Alpha."

As if a tidal wave went off in my body, I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. With a gasp that caused my body to arch off the table I opened my eyes and began to dry heave. The room was spinning and I felt like I was rocking on the ocean. Everything was moving at an exponential speed and my eyes seemed to roll back into my head.

"Recorded symptoms include foaming at the mouth, dry heaves, and muscle spasms," came the distorted voice of Zola. He sounded like his words were slurred together, and every other word was a different pitch. With twitching eyes I turned to look at him, but all I saw was the small doctor's face melting. It was as if the skin on his face had become liquid and it was falling off, leaving only his bones in place. Fear surged through me as the skeleton began to talk in more distorted tones, but the spinning of the room mixed with the vomit rising in my throat forced me to close my eyes again. With an attempt at steady breaths I tried to ease the churning of my stomach and force the vomit down. My breathing became erratic as the room spun more and more, causing everything to blur together into a vortex of dark colors. I was suffocating and black spots danced at the edge of my vision. The last thing I heard was Zola speaking about me losing consciousness before I did just that.

-x-

 **Two Weeks Later**  
 **June 1942**

I awoke from a dreamless sleep to another clear bag attached to my arm and the low whirl of the phonograph. Zola was already standing there with another syringe in hand as if he knew I would wake up at that exact moment. This injection was a navy blue and seemed to be at least half the volume of the first one. When I made eye contact with him, he quickly pushed the second syringe into my upper arm and stepped away.

"Subject Valkyrie, prepped and injected with Substance Beta."

This liquid hit me instantly. Stemming from the inoculation site, it felt like I was injected with thousands of insects. Thousands of tingling legs started in my upper arm and quickly spread through my entire body. From my head to my toes there were beetles crawling all over me. I felt them in my eyelids and mouth as they crawled over every surface. Their tiny, unbearable scratching seemed to wear away at my skin and shudders racked through me.

"Recorded symptoms include convulsing and cold sweats. Possible hallucinations." This time Zola's voice sounded like wood cracking together. Everything seemed sharper— the drips from a damp sink were like knives in my ears while the small doctor's voice rapped intensely. I felt like my ears were bleeding and I couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped my mouth. My arms and legs strained against my long-held restraints in an attempt to swash the beetles that crawled over my skin. "Observation will be held for the span of one hour before sedation and an antidote will be administered," stated the punctuated voice of Zola into the photograph.

This one hour seemed to last twelve.

-x-

 **August 1942**

I had periods of peace and periods of pain. Some days I would lay on the table and stare at the ceiling, absentmindedly daydreaming or making patterns with the cracks. Other days I would be subjected to beatings or more injections. Sometimes the HYDRA soldiers would unstrap me and take me into a metal room were they would use sticks of electricity to burn me. If they didn't use the sticks they would simply use their fists and bruise my already battered body. I looked most forward to these days because most of the time a well placed punch would knock me out cold for a few days at a time. During these intervals I was spared a beating or a visit from The Nazi. His voice was wearing my skin extremely thin and shutting it out became harder and harder. The days that he came and sat next to me were the worst because he continued to ask for my participation in his cult even with my constant rejections. Despite the lack of use, my voice was always strong enough to give him a final 'no'.

The days when Zola came were also days I regretted. He injected me with the blue liquid two more times before he came with a bright purple one. This one seemed to be the worst until the orange syringe. The former gave made me feel blank and empty. It was as if someone took my mind and used a mortar and pestle on it. I felt dizzy and loose, in an almost euphoric sense. It wasn't painful, but it was horrifying to realize that this simple liquid could turn my entire body into something I couldn't control.

The latter liquid was similar to the blue one but rather than thin, bug-like legs crawling on me and making me uncomfortable, this one felt like I was being stabbed with needles. Thousands upon thousands of pin-pricks reverberated all over my body as if I was getting multiple injections at the same time. Like the blue liquid, I felt these pricks in my toes all the way up to my eyelids and it was seemingly never ending. I screamed my throat raw and clenched my fists so hard that my fingernails cut into my skin and drew blood. Every time I was injected Zola would record him observations into the phonograph, taking my vitals as I rode out the effects of the liquids. The orange syringe was the worst until I awoke to Zola standing next to me once more.

Like the multiple injections before, he saw I was awake and quickly jammed the needle into my skin. I was barely able to see the syringe and the red liquid before he pulled away and pressed the button on the phonograph.

"Subject Valkyrie, prepped and injected with Substance Epsilon," he spoke into the machine before he quickly grabbed my wrist and began to check my pulse. "Subject's pulse remains normal after immediate injection."

As quickly as he finished his sentence I felt my blood rush and my heart began to beat at a rapid pace.

"One minute and thirty seconds after injection Subject's heart rate has increased to 190 beats per minute."

My heart rate grew higher and higher until it was painfully pumping against my chest. It felt as if it was going to jump out of my body and fly across the room. Blood was rushing through my body and I could hear every beat in my ears. I was convulsing violently and all my limbs pulled against my restraints. I couldn't breathe, but a sharp scream was torn out of my throat as Zola continued to track my heart beats. Black spots danced in the corners of my vision and I began loose focus on everything around me.

"Two minutes after injection Subject's heart rate has drastically increased to 350 beats per minute. Subject seems to have acute respiratory failure and full-body convulsions. Subject has opened wounds in skin due to strain from restraints. Advising antidote two minutes and thirty seconds after injection."

In seconds Zola slammed a syringe full of a clear liquid into my chest. Almost instantly my body seemed to calm, but the pain in my chest didn't go away. There was a dull ache over my heart as it had clearly over exerted itself due to the red liquid Zola put into my body.

"Subject reacting well to antidote. Subject's breathing remains shallow, but heart rate has decreased to 110 beats per minute and continues to decline. Sedative is to be administered to obtain blood sample." With that he pushed another needle into the crook of my elbow and in less than a minute I was greeted by the dark hands of unconsciousness.

-x-

 **November 1942**

Since the first injection of the red liquid, I was subject to one of Zola's tortures four more times. Each time he came back he claimed to have perfected one or more of the colored injections. Each time the injection would seemingly remain the same. To me there was no change in the potency nor the effects of each respective liquid. The red one continued to make me feel like I was suffocating while the green still made me extremely ill.

Between the four torture sessions and the intermittent beatings, I was constantly denied food and only allowed to relieve myself twice a day with five to six soldiers watching. Once a day I was given water by a skinny and frightened man who looked to be a prisoner. I was given bread one time from The Nazi, but the only sustenance or nutrients I received were through Zola's clear bag on a pole. I also knew that I had a layer of grime and dirt covering my body. My armored leggings were practically fused into my skin while my black shirt was ripped in so many places that it could barely be considered a shirt anymore. The dirt and oil that coated my hair was thick and repulsive, and I was only granted a cold bath once since my arrival in this place. I knew I smelled abhorrent and the idea of a warm bath was a distant fantasy.

The room was constantly growing more moldy and wet. It was also clear that we were entering the colder months because the night time was almost unbearable. The nights that proved to be extremely cold were the worst, and in only three instances I was given a thin blanket to cover my exposed body.

The days blurred together and I only kept track of the days based on the beatings or torture sessions. There were blank spaces in my mind where I was either unconsciousness or forced asleep by sedatives. I didn't have a solid grip on any form of hope, but the small Asgardian warrior part of me kept telling me that I would get out of here some way or another. However this small part of my mind was getting tinier every day I was able to track. The only thing I was able to fully hold onto was my Valkyrie fury.

While I was lost in my own mind, the metal doors to my containment room opened with a loud screech. The clattering of shoes on the floor alerted me to the oncoming visitor and I could already tell by the casual footsteps that I had the displeasure of being visited by The Nazi once more.

"How is my little bird faring today?" he said in his gratingly thick German accent. I didn't answer, and nor could I. I was screaming internally, begging for the chance to wring his neck.

"Your silence shows me your resolve hasn't broken, that's good. But I knew you would as you are the perfect subject to see how they effect someone with 'enhanced abilities.' It also shows that you are a lot stronger than my other test subjects. They have unfortunately not survived as far as you have." I stayed silent.

"Still no words? You should be proud of your strength. I hear that Valkyries are some of the strongest and most fear upon Asgard." The smirk in his voice was evident. With steady breaths I relaxed into the table and attempted to shut his voice out.

"I am proud of your strength, and despite all your rejections I'd still enjoy to have you on my side." There it was, the offer that I would continue to reject no matter how many times he asked.

With my eyes still closed, I opened my mouth to give him another rejection. "You will never be a god," I hissed out. Even though I couldn't see him, I imagined his smirk falling and this gave me a tiny spark of joy.

"I have developed poisons that have seriously altered your state of mind. I believe that makes me god-like, no?"

"No," I spat out, still blind to the room.

"Well it's a shame you don't agree. I'm now very anxious to see how you fare against my favorite poison yet." At that I opened my eyes and they flickered to his face. A sinister grin stretched across his cheeks and the glint behind his eyes told me that the worst was yet to come.

* * *

I don't own anything except my rendition of Sian!

I want to clear somethings up: 1. HYDRA was apparently very technologically advanced, so I believe it was possible for them to have IVs and IV therapy at the time. 2. I'm sorry for the time jumps, but I wanted to get the ball rolling for the upcoming chapters!

We won't see Bucky or Steve for awhile so please bare with me!

I'm currently looking for a Beta, so I'm also sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes! If you're interested in being my beta PM me!


End file.
